


Break and Enter

by Navaie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Gen, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, scott still got bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-31
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-04 11:04:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Navaie/pseuds/Navaie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can't just jump in THROUGH THE WINDOW and expect me to not call the police!!" </p>
<p>Stiles is living a very normal life. His friend is a werewolf, yeah, but they got over that years ago.<br/>Derek wishes his life was simple. His uncle wants to murder him. Why? No clue.<br/>------<br/>The bite happened but they never met the Hales.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meet

Stiles woke up.

 

Sounds were coming from the apartment. Some shuffling and what sounded like the refrigerator door banging.

 

Scott, he thought lazily. He turned around and entangled himself in his covers.

 

His roommate must’ve woken up and decided he was hungry. It wouldn’t be the first time. A shuffle was heard and then the sound of broken glass.

 

Shit, another one?

 

That was the third this month. Too tired to care, Stiles put a pillow on his head, snuggling further into the warmth of his bed.

 

His eyes shot wide open. Scott was on the other side of town, having a date with his girlfriend, Allison.

 

That wasn’t Scott.

 

He stumbled out of bed in a flailing of limbs and tripped into his scattered clothes in his hurry. He grabbed his baseball bat off the wall and ventured into the apartment clutching it tightly.

 

Everything was dark. He padded carefully through the apartment, weapon ready.

 

He saw something move out of the corner of his eyes and acted on instinct. The bat collided with something solid. If he was going by sound, it has landed on the floor quite solidly and wasn’t moving.

 

Stiles backed away and searched the wall for the light switch. When he found it, he saw that he had hit a man. He was on the floor, the beginning of a bruise forming on the side of his head.

 

“Oh, Shit!!”

 

He let go of the bat and crouched low to get a better view at the guy.

 

Unconscious, obviously, he thought as he examined the stranger. Stiles winced a bit. That would hurt later on.

 

The man wore a leather jacket and jeans. They were torn in places that indicated that it wasn’t from wear, like his clothes. He had dark hair and a beginning of beard, thick eyelashes and an impossibly sharp jaw. His feet were bare and bleeding.

 

Frowning, Stiles followed a trail of blood through the apartment with his eyes until they settled on the living room and saw that the front window had been smashed to pieces.

 

Well, that explained the sounds. And the blood seeping into his carpet. He stood up and stepped carefully around the stranger. The kitchen looked unmarked but the living room was a mess. The lamp Melissa had given them when she redecorated her house was smashed to bits on the floor. The stranger had caught on the bookshelf when he broke in and all his precious books were thrown around, some in painful to watch distorsion.

 

Swearing, he stomped back to the man with every intent on waking him. Stiles nudged him with his foot and got a loud growl in response. He yelped as he jumped back. Grabbing his bat once again, he carefully poked the stranger with it.

 

The man in question started fidgeting. When he opened his eyes, Stiles was ready, bat in hand, to defend himself if he had to.

 

“What?” The stranger asked, confused.

 

Oops. Concussion. Right.

 

“Well…” Stiles started to say but the other man interrupted him

 

“Did you hit me with that?!”

 

The voice was deep and gravely and it made Stiles fear for his life. The frown on the man’s face was scary enough to give him nightmares for the following week.

 

“Well?! Did you?!”

 

Stiles spluttered. What did he do?

 

“You’re the one that broke into my apartment, asshole!!” he yelled.

 

“It’s not as if i was going to steal anything!” the stranger yelled back.

 

“Oh, just passing by?” Stiles replied sarcastically. “Well then, please do take your time!”

 

“I-” The stranger’s eyes widened. “Close the lights! Quick!”

 

“What?”

 

Stiles didn’t even have time to be further confused before he was tackled to the wall and everything went dark again.

 

“What the fuck, dude? What’s your fucking problem? What is-”

 

A hand stopped him mid-rant.

 

“Shut up. He’ll hear you.” the stranger whispered.

 

Stiles’ complaints were muffled by the hand still on his mouth. The other man’s grip tightened.

 

“Shut up, I said.” he hissed. “I’ll rip your throat out if you don’t. With my teeth.”

 

Stiles froze immediately.

 

Everything was silent. The stranger stood alert, focusing on something he couldn’t see. After a while, he relaxed. Stiles got out of the choking grip. He massaged his neck gingerly. His eyes had adjusted to the dark and he could see the man look around nervously.

 

“Dude! What the fuck!?” He wheezed. “What was that!?”

 

The other raised an eyebrow. A very judgemental eyebrow, in Stiles’ opinion.

 

“You swear a lot, don’t you?”

 

He stared in disbelief.

 

“Dude. You just broke into my apartment through the window and almost choked me to death. I think I have the right to swear.”

 

Stiles moved from the wall he was still leaning on and walked to the kitchen. There, he grabbed his phone. He looked over his shoulder and said:

 

“I’m calling the police. Now.”

 

The other man huffed.

 

“No you’re not.”

 

It was Stiles’ turn to raise an eyebrow.

 

‘Why not?” he challenged.

 

“I won’t let you, And no harm was really done.”

 

Stiles looked at him sharply.

 

“That’s it. I’m definitely calling the police now. I think you need a lesson in private property if you think that was a normal thing to do.”

 

The stranger looked petulant.

 

“It’s not normal. But I didn’t steal anything! I didn’t kill anyone!”

 

“No, you just broke my front window and ruined my carpet with your blood.”

 

Stiles started to dial the number but the stranger grabbed his wrist. He pulled and he was inches from Stiles’ face, fuming and menacing..

 

“Don’t. I’m not afraid to hurt you.” he threatened.

 

“Sorry, dude. I’m not impressed.” Stiles yanked his arm out the the other’s grip. “I already hit you with a baseball bat. You probably have a concussion. I think I can take you on again.”

 

He smirked but he didn’t really believe it. The stranger advanced angrily, his scowl even stronger than before, which was saying something, really.

 

Stiles was ready to bolt out of there, through the window if necessary because he didn’t actually think he could take on the mountain of muscles the man was. He wasn’t even dizzy for God’s sake! He was steady as a rock, the complete opposite of Stiles. They were circling each other, the stranger coming closer and closer to an escape when they both froze.

 

Sounds were coming from the front door; keys jumbling and lock turning. Scott appeared in the frame. When he saw them, frozen in movement, he stopped short.

 

“Hum...What’s happening? Stiles?” he asked.

 

His friend didn’t answer. A few more seconds passed. Then, as lightning, the stranger ran out of the apartment, leaving the boys behind.

 

“Stiles? Who was that?” Scott asked.

 

Stiles blinked up at his friend and shook his head.

 

“What are you even doing here?”

 

“Oh, Allison got a call from her father. “Urgent family business” she said” Scott answered as he was shrugging off his coat. “What about you? Who was that?”

 

Stiles thought of the living room and the shattered pieces of glass. Their landlord was going to kill them. He let out a small whine.

 

“No, I’m too tired for this. I’m going to bed.” He walked towards his bedroom and picked up the abandoned baseball bat. “Oh and Scott?” Stiles called out. “Don’t sit on the couch. The front window exploded all over it.”

 

“What?”

 

Stiles closed his door and as he was lying down, he heard a loud string of curses.

  
He was asleep almost instantly.


	2. Meet Again

Derek was restless. He could get caught at any moment.

 

He was hurrying down the sidewalk, pushing past the sea of people. He saw something dark flash out of the corner of his eye. Desperate, he ran into the nearest open door in an attempt to lose his pursuer.

 

Derek found himself in a small coffee shop, the smell of beans and pastries hitting him right in the face.

 

He relaxed slightly. The smell could dissimulate him for a few minutes. The place was well lit and warm. A few tables were occupied. Derek tried to avoid making eye contact with anyone, but his fast breathing and panting still attracted attention. People were staring at him.

 

“Hey!”

 

He looked up. A guy was waving. At him.

 

“You’re the guy from last night!” The stranger called.

 

Shit. What luck was that? He was running from a crazy uncle, the last thing he needed was a run-in with the owner of the apartment he broke into.

 

The guy walked over to him.

 

“Hey” He grinned. “What a coincidence, right!?”

 

Derek stepped back. “I guess” he said carefully.

 

“Well, come and sit.” The stranger said. Derek was about to run again but the other man grabbed his arm forcefully and dragged Derek back with him with surprising strength. He sat him at a table where someone else, probably his friend, already sat. The guy- was it Stan or something? - sat besides him. The table was the farthest from the door, a fact for which Derek was both grateful and worried about. His uncle would have more trouble finding him, yes, but he wouldn’t be able to run if he did find him.

 

“Just so you know, my buddy Scott texted my dad to tell him the weird guy from yesterday was here.”  The younger guy said matter-of-factly. “Might take a few hours of your time, dude.”

 

Derek’s eyes widened in panic.

 

“What? No, I can’t.”

 

“Hum, yes you can. Look, I’m not pressing charges or anything.”

 

“Yeah, we only need to file a report so our landlord doesn’t sue us.” The other- Scott - added.

 

“No.” Derek repeated. “I can’t stay in one place for long. He’ll catch me.”

 

“So you’re running from the mafia too, is that it?” The first man snorted. “I think you really need help now.”  

 

Derek got up, but the other man was right there, holding him close. Derek could see the faint variation of color in his eyes. His face was hardened and his voice colder than it had been, even from the night before.

 

“Hey, we’re not asking permission, here. You won’t go to prison, we just need proof it was you.”

 

Derek inhaled sharply. This guy was infuriating. He didn’t have time for this. He breathed again and froze. A very familiar scent was in the air. A scent he was trying to avoid at all costs. Wolf. His eyes darted around, searching for the origin of the smell. They eventually settled on Scott, who was still sitting.

 

He was a wolf. How hadn’t he known? The guy reeked. This was dangerous. Peter would surely smell it too and come here. He would find him.

 

He yanked his arm out of the other’s grip with so much force it sent him tumbling. He turned around and ran to the exit, catching the door just as it was closing behind another client.

 

He needed to go somewhere, anywhere, safe. He ran faster, an idea already forming in his head.

 

“Even if you run, we’ll find you!” He heard the guy shout after him.

 

\--

 

Stiles went back into the coffee shop and sat heavily at their table.

 

“I can’t believe it, Scotty.” He sighed. “He was just there! He could have proved we didn’t break the damn window…”

 

“It’s not that bad.” Scott said. “I have his scent now. We can find him again.”

 

Stiles perked up. “Yeah, we’ll werewolf-trick his human ass.”

 

“You mean I will, right? You’ll just watch from the sidelines.” Scott said, amused.

 

Stiles pulled a face.

 

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of me. The fact that I’m not supernatural doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be lost without me.”  He grumbled.

 

Scott laughed. “I know, buddy.” He took a sip from his coffee.

 

“Don’t you ever wonder who did this?” Stiles was staring at his own cup, his eyebrows frowning.

 

Scott sighed.

 

“Stiles, we’ve talked about this before. Many, many times. I don’t remember anything from that night.”

 

“I know but,” Stiles insisted. “ Maybe, you know, hypnosis would help? Or, we could recreate the scene!”

 

Stiles was a mess of flailing limbs now and Scott carefully put his coffee out of his reach.

 

“Again? Stiles, we tried everything. Well, maybe not hypnosis” he amended. “But still. I don’t care anymore. I got on with life anyway, right?”

 

Stiles sighed and put his forehead on the table.

 

“I guess.”


	3. And Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so slooooooww....

Derek sagged against the wall. He was in the most desolate part of the city. There were scraps of metal and run down buildings all around him. A few people wandered about, but his torn clothes blended him with the crowd. No one was looking at him.

 

He slinked behind an overflowing dumpster and sat on the ground. The smell made him cringe but maybe Peter would be fooled. He doubted that a bit but he would try anything to stay alive.

 

He sighed and put his head between his knees.

 

How had they come to this? Why did his uncle want to kill him? Most of his family had died at the hands of Kate, now Peter wanted to finish the job. His sisters were on the run in South America, but Peter was closing in on him, it was only a matter of time until he was found. What was he going to do?

 

Derek took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He had to stay calm. Fear and panic were scents Peter caught very easily, even before the….Before.

 

He heard steps just outside his hiding place. He tensed and tried to be as still as possible.

 

“Dude, where are we? Are you sure he came here?” A voice asked.

 

Derek wanted to yell in frustration. They found him. Christ. Couldn’t he have a moment of peace? He huddled further into his hiding spot.

 

Please, please, leave it alone, he thought.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure. The smell is here.”  
  


“I don’t see him. Okay, let’s start again.”

 

Someone sighed.

 

“Stiles, can we please go? The smell is giving me a headache.”

 

“The hot guy smell?” The other asked.

 

Derek snorted.

 

“Wait.”

 

Shit. Derek wanted to hit himself. Now the wolf knew.

 

“Behind that dumpster. Go.”

 

“Me?! Why me?!”

 

“You’re not the one with super smell here!! Go!”

 

Derek heard the guy- Stiles - grumble but sounds of crackling plastic and disgusted noises followed. Eventually, a face popped from the edge of the dumpster, looking sour and proud when he saw Derek.

 

“So. Hi.” Stiles said. “We found you. Don’t ask how. Come out and everything will be alright.”

 

Derek closed his eyes. Was murder an option?

 

“No it won’t, but now that you came here, my hiding spot is useless. Thank you.” he said acidly.

 

He opened his eyes to see Stiles casually shrug, as if he wasn’t perched on a mountain of garbage. Derek rolled his eyes and stood up. He shooed the other out of his way and climbed out of the disgusting place, his eyebrows frowning even further each time he put his hands in something unknown and gooey.

 

He landed lightly on the cement and attempted to dust himself, without much success.

 

The boys were looking at him weirdly, the werewolf trying to discreetly block his nose.

 

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Stiles huffed and crossed his arms

 

"We were looking for you, obviously."

 

"You still need to come and tell our landlord to back off" Scott added.

 

"No."

 

He mirrored Stiles’ position.

 

"Dude!! You don't get to say that!" Stiles told him furiously, his arms going up in exasperation."You are a cri-mi-nal. You don't get a choice."

 

Derek closed his eyes and breathed deeply. How could someone be as annoying as these two?

 

He stilled; something had caught his attention in the air. He sniffed discreetly around.

 

There was Scott's scent, the unmistakable trace of werewolf floating around him.

 

Then the other boy, who smelled of frustration.

 

And then…

 

The wind blew again, ruffling the group's hair and clothes. It carried a scent Derek had been trained to fear.

 

Peter. Peter's scent was in the air and coming close.

 

Derek looked around warily. He stared at the end of the little alley, behind the boy’s shoulders.

 

"Huh, dude? What's happening?" One of them asked.  

 

Derek shushed them. He couldn't let his attention fail, but Stiles grabbed his arm and shook him.  

 

"You can't shush us! What’s your problem?"  

 

Derek snapped at him. He bared his teeth but tried to refrain from changing. Nothing good would come out of revealing his identity now. Only more questions. Instead, he had a sneer that could rival the most frightening hunter he had ever encountered.  

 

"Let go of me." He said in his most menacing voice. Stiles held up his hands immediately.  

 

"Always as pleasant, I see, Derek."  

 

He froze. Peter was at the end of their little alley, hands in his pockets, casual as anyone.  

 

"You really should work on that temper, you know" Peter said innocently. "You'll scare people off"  

 

Shit. He had to get out of there alive.

 

His uncle advanced towards them. He didn't seem to notice the boys behind Derek, as focused as he was.  

 

\--

 

Stiles was confused. The guy had just appeared from nowhere and now, they were having a mini-showdown in a dark alley. This was looking more and more like a bad mafia movie.  

 

"Scotty, do you think we should go?" he asked his best friend.

 

"Yeah. They're giving a weird vibe. I don't like it." Scott shuddered.  

 

"Okay. Do you think they'll let us go if we ask nicely.?"

 

"Man, I don't think so."  

 

Stiles looked at the scene. The two were bantering like a couple of bad comics enemies.  

 

"Don't fight it, Derek. You know you can't." The one that appeared said.

 

Derek-apparently- snarled.  

 

"You tried to kill my family."

 

The other looked offended.

 

"They’re my family to me too, you know." he said. "Not only yours."

 

"No. You lost any ties you had with us when you started to rampage."

 

"Pff. "rampage"? you're being dramatic, Derbear. "

 

"Don't call me that," Derek snapped.

 

They stared at each other, none of them willing to move first.

 

Stiles was not a patient man and he had enough of this badly written dialogue of evil.  

 

"Well," he stepped up. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think we'll be going, my friend and I."  

 

Both men looked at him in shock. Scott did too. Seriously. He should have known that Stiles wouldn't just wait. He walked towards the stranger. Well, the strangerer stranger.  

 

"Goodbye."

 

Stiles grabbed Scott by the neck and proceeded to walk them out of there. Peter stepped in when they were almost out the dingy alley.

 

He appeared in front of them so fast, they stumbled to a stop.

 

"Dude, how did you do that?" Stiles asked.  

 

Peter smirked.  

 

"Well, you've seen me. Let's just say that it's not..." He breathed deeply "A good thing."

 

He frowned as if something was confusing him.

 

"Not good at all" He muttered to himself. His eyes focused on Scott, who averted his warily.

 

“Boys, boys, boys. What have we here, Derek?" He asked. "Where did you find that one, may I ask?"  

 

Derek growled. It was a sound Stiles had very rarely heard, even with Scott’s furry problem, a deep animalistic sound that no human vocal chords could ever produce. It was something of pure rage and of neverending fury. He felt Scott stiffen under his grip. He had understood too, then.

 

"Man, I don't know what you're talking about." Stiles interjected, hoping to relieve some of the tension in the air. "I really think we should go."

 

He started moving again, past Peter, only to be stopped by an iron grip on his shoulder.  

 

"You, dear, are not going anywhere." The soft and insidious voice of the man told him.

 

Stiles balked. “What are you talking about? Yes, we are." He shoved at Peter. "Let go."  

 

The grip on his shoulders became stronger. It was almost unbearable.A low growl came from behind Stiles.  

 

"Let him go, Peter" Derek said.  

 

"Oh, my, my," The other drawled " are you trying to scare me? Won’t work pretty boy."  

 

"I said, let them go, Peter" Derek growled.

 

The man only smirked and tightened his grip on Stiles’ arm.  

 

"What are you going to do about it, dear nephew?" He asked. "Snarl at me?"

 

Derek growled again, but made no move. Stiles noticed Scott was getting fidgety and restless, so he tried to talk his way out of it.  

 

"Look, dude, we don't even know who you are. We don't want trouble, so just let us go. We won't tell anyone." He pleaded.

 

Peter laughed.

 

"Not involved? Is that what you're going with?"

 

He brought Stiles millimeters from his face and whispered;

 

"A wolf and a boy who reeks like one are always involved, if you ask me."

 

Stiles was shocked. How...?

 

"What?" He managed."What do you mean, werewolf?" He laughed feebly. "You're crazy"

 

"Oh, am I?" Asked the man, baring his teeth.

 

"You don't fool me boy, I know Derek came to you for help. He wants to get rid of me. But he can't, so he asked you." He paused.

 

"WILL YOU TRY TO KILL ME, BOY?" he yelled suddenly.  

 

Stiles had shrunk back as far as possible and looked very alarmed.  

 

"Stiles” Scott whispered. "They're werewolves."

 

"What? How can they be werewolves? They're-"

 

A loud screech interrupted Stiles just before he went stumbling to the ground, Peter’s grip on his arm bringing him down with the man. Peter was on the floor, writhing, Derek on top of him, trying desperately to tear his throat out. They struggled a bit while Stiles stared openly in shock, frozen in place.

 

Suddenly, Derek was thrown on the other side of the small alley, onto the pile of rubbish he was hiding behind previously. Peter cackled, a laugh so crazy it raised the hair on the boy's arms.

 

Scott grabbed him and helped him up. They watched the fight unfold with frightened eyes.

 

Peter was on Derek, claws out and fangs burrowing into the other’s shoulder. A loud scream was heard. Derek's teeth gnawed at Peter's face, but not leaving a mark. Finally, Peter relented and loosened his hold on his nephew, who took the opportunity. He teared themselves apart and started to run. He caught Scott's collar when he passed them and they were forced to follow.  

 

They ran and ran, until even Scott couldn’t breathe, but still Derek ran and pushed them further until they were in a completely different part of the city. They climbed stairs and Derek pushed an enormous metal door open to reveal a big and dark space.

 

“Nice place, dude.” Stiles snorted.

 

The floors were bare and used. The only light was filtered by a giant window, caked with dust and grime. It smelled humid, as if the place had been drenched, then emptied and left unaired to rot.  Scott was wrinkling his nose.

 

“Hey,” he asked “Who are you?”

 

 


End file.
